


Killing Gérard Lacroix

by twoheartedalien



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crime Scenes, Gerard dies in this, If it's not obvious, It's not very shippy, Modern Setting, Multi, Murder Mystery, there are shippy parts but it's mostly plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-16 00:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoheartedalien/pseuds/twoheartedalien
Summary: After a call comes in about Gérard Lacroix having been murdered, detectives Jesse McCree and Fareeha Amari are set on the case to find his killer only to find out things are not as simple as they seem.





	1. A Murder in the Late Hours

Jesse grumbled in frustration as he woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing against the top of his wooden bedside table. He peered one eye open as he picked it up, tilting the screen towards his face. 4:24am. Gabriel. That was never a good sign. With a quick swipe of his thumb, he answered the incoming phone call. 

“‘Ello?” Jesse mumbled, running a hand down his face in an attempt to help wake himself up. 

“Jesse, I need you to come down here. Got a murder scene for you and Fareeha to look at.” Gabriel paused for a moment, as if being interrupted, “She’s already making her way down, said you don’t need to worry about getting a cup of coffee. I’ll text you the address.” 

“Right. Be there soon.” He said, hanging up the phone and tossing it back onto the table. 

Genji rolled over in the bed, slinging his arm around Jesse’s waist and nuzzling up against the top of his shoulder, “Gotta go?” He asked, still half asleep. 

“Yep. Gotta get to a murder scene, probably on the other side of town, knowin’ my luck.” Jesse said with a sigh. He took a few more moments to enjoy Genji’s affections before forcing himself out of bed. 

He made his way over to the closet, pulling open both doors and pawing in the dark for some suitable clothes. When Jesse had hold of some underwear, a button down shirt, a pair of jeans, and his leather jacket, he tossed them over his shoulder and headed to the bathroom. He dropped them onto the bathroom counter and leaned into the shower, turning on the water before getting undressed. 

Even if Fareeha would have a cup of coffee waiting for him, Jesse was going to need a good, hot shower to help himself stay awake. It always seemed that whenever he went to bed late at night, someone got murdered in the early hours of the morning. Typical. He took a shower at the hottest temperature he could stand until the buzzing of his phone brought him back out of his thoughts. 

It was Gabriel sending him a text with the address to the house. It was just his luck that the crime would take place on the other side of town. Jesse turned off the water and stepped out, making quick work of drying himself off and getting dressed in his clothes. He cringed at the way his clothes stuck to his body and how his hair was still damp, but he didn’t have time to take care of it. 

On his way out the front door, he swiped his side bag and keys from the top of the table in their hallway. In his dazed state, Jesse almost forgot to take his hat and serape from where they hung on the coat rack. He did his best to put them on as he made it down the main staircase of the apartment building. 

Jesse took the stairs down into the basement where his sedan was parked. He’d always preferred to take his motorcycle but getting chewed out by Gabriel was never worth the effort. The drive to the crime scene didn’t take long as the roads were always deserted at this hour, even though it was on the other side of town it only took five minutes. Jesse drove until he found the house cordoned off by tape and surrounded by police cars with the lights still on. He parked across the road and got out of the car, locking it with the press of a button as he walked towards the house. 

Jesse gave Fareeha a smile and a wave as he noticed her standing on the front porch of the house, a cup of coffee in each hand. She gave him a quick nod of her head in acknowledgement before finishing whatever she must have been saying to one of the uniformed police officers on the scene. Fareeha was wearing pretty much the same thing he was, a pair of dark jeans and a leather jacket of her own. The only difference was she chose to wear a turtleneck under the jacket, Fareeha always found this part of the world cold. As he got close, she stuck out his coffee towards him. 

“Is it bad in there?” Jesse asked as he took his coffee gratefully and sipped at it lightly. 

“It’s not too much of a mess in there. Seems like it was a quick one, at least.” Fareeha answered, taking her own sip of her coffee before gesturing with a thumb over her shoulder and leading the two of them inside. 

“What do we know so far?” He asked, scratching at his hairline under his hat.

“We know the murder victim is a man called Gérard Lacroix, age thirty-seven, born and raised in France. He worked as a mercenary for Blackwater International Corps after a stint in the French army a while back. The past few months, he’s been going through a divorce with his wife, Amélie Lacroix.” 

Fareeha rattled off the facts as they made their way through the house. It was a large, family style home and seemed to be on the older side. Jesse suspected there was at least four or five bedrooms, plus the study downstairs they passed on the way in. He pursed his lips at the thought. 

“He got any kids?” 

“It doesn’t appear that way, why?” Fareeha asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Just a big house to not have any kids, y’know?” Jesse murmured as Fareeha lead them into the living room. 

Gérard’s body was on the ground, sandwiched between the couch and the glass coffee table in front of the TV. There was a pool of blood around his head, a few bloody footprints that looked to be from more than one set of shoes, and a couple handprints to match but there wasn’t much else out of place. Nothing appeared to be stolen from Jesse’s first examination of the room. 

He walked around the perimeter of the room first, examining various framed photographs on the mantle above the fireplace. There were a few that was clearly the victim and a woman who looked to be his wife, and another by itself that was Gérard standing alongside a few of his fellow mercenary buddies. In the photograph, a man with striking blond hair had his arm slung around Gérard’s shoulder. 

Jesse’s attention was brought back to the body when he ran out of things to study around the room . After placing his coffee cup aside, he walked towards the victim’s feet and fished out a pair of latex gloves from a box on the coffee table before crouching down with a grunt to get a closer look. 

Fareeha scoffed at the noise he’d made, “Pain from your injection again?” She asked. 

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He mumbled, his focus now entirely on the dead man in front of him. 

The fact that Gérard was still warm was the first thing that Jesse noticed. He was dressed in a casual polo shirt and a pair of loose jeans, no shoes or socks Jesse suspected he must have been relaxing at home before he was interrupted by whoever killed him. There were a couple small scratches on his hands and fingers as if there had been a struggle shortly before he had died. 

He pursed his lips as he dug around in Gérard’s pockets, making sure that they were definitely empty. The cause of death was obviously from a head injury of some kind, but without a weapon nearby, they couldn’t be sure just yet as to what killed him. Jesse’s focus was pulled away from the victim when Gabriel made his way into the room, looking just as exhausted as both he and Fareeha did. He was dressed a lot more formally than the two of them, despite the late hour, he had made the effort to pick out a suit and tie to wear to the scene. Jesse assumed it was just in case some press showed up. 

“You find anything good yet?” Gabriel asked with a grumble, folding his arms across his chest. 

Jesse shook his head as he stood up, “Nothin’ yet. Still gotta have a look ‘round for the murder weapon. Have to hope they didn’t take it with them whoever they were.” He peeled the latex gloves off his hands and tossed them into the nearby trash can. 

Gabriel seemed like he was about to speak again before he was interrupted by a small woman wearing a lab tech uniform. In her hands was a plastic ziplock evidence bag filled with broken pieces of a vase, all of which was clearly covered in blood. 

“We found this out in the trash behind the house. We’ll have to test the blood on the pieces to be sure that it’s the victims, but we’re fairly certain.” She announced, eyes flicking between Jesse, Fareeha, and Gabriel. 

“Thank you, let me know of the results immediately when you know,” Gabriel said, watching as the woman nodded in response and made her way out to the front of the house, “You guys better make your way down to the station, we have some suspects to interview.” 

“Suspects?” Fareeha asked, brow furrowed in confusion, “We have suspects already?” 

“You didn’t know?” Surprise crossed Gabriel’s face as he ran a hand through his shortly cropped hair, “We have three suspects downtown all claiming to be the murderer and that they acted alone.” 


	2. Enter Amélie Lacroix

The drive to the station from Gérard Lacroix’s house was a silent one. Jesse drove his car and Fareeha sat in his passenger seat, still sipping on the dregs of her coffee. Since Gabriel’s announcement that there were three different confessed murderers to the crime, they’d been mulling over the evidence without saying much at all.

Jesse pulled into his parking spot in front of the station before getting out of the car and tossing his own empty coffee cup into the trash can in front of the door. They made their way past the unmanned desk in reception and into the part of the station specifically for the detectives. Fareeha and Jesse were the only two in at this hour aside from Gabriel who was in his own separate office.

He went to his desk, picking up the notes that Gabriel had left for him about the suspects. The first name that caught his eye was that belonging to the victim’s wife, Amélie Lacroix, who was currently waiting in their first interrogation room.

“‘Reeha, let’s start with the… I guess it’d be widow, yeah? Let’s start with her.” He grumbled, tossing his wallet and keys onto his desk and picking up his pad of paper for notes. The interviews were recorded on video, but it was best to have something just in case.

They headed down the hall after Fareeha grabbed her own paper for her own notes, entering the first interrogation room on the right. Inside the room was a thin woman with pale skin. She had dark, dead straight hair that was long enough that the ends were concealed by the table she was sitting at. Her amber eyes were red and puffy as if she’d been crying, and the clothes she was wearing appeared to be some plain medical scrubs worn by the coroners. Jesse took a quick look at his notes, seeing that she’d been found covered in blood and her own clothes had been taken as evidence.

Jesse and Fareeha took a seat at the table, both pulling out a chair and placing their notepads down on the table. He looked to Fareeha, signalling with the click of his pen that he was planning to take the lead on this one.

“Mrs Amélie Lacroix, yes?” He asked, staring right at her now.

Amélie took a moment to respond, eyes still glued to her own hands in her lap. She seemed to be picking at her nails, “Oui. That is me.”

He wetted his lips before speaking, “Have you been given a chance to contact your lawyer?”

“I do not need a lawyer. I wish to confess.” She said, her voice broken, monotone. This woman looked… defeated in Jesse’s mind.

“And how old are you?” He asked next, flicking his pen between his fingers as he waited for her answer.

“I am thirty-three. Born in Annecy, France.” She answered, giving him the answer to his next question.

“I see. What do you do for a livin’, Mrs Lacroix?”

“I am a ballet dancer. This is my last year before I retire and become a teacher instead.” Amélie still refused to look Jesse in the eyes. He wasn’t sure whether it was a sign of guilt or something else.

“You were in divorce proceedings with Gérard Lacroix prior to his death tonight, were you not?” Jesse took his hat off, putting it on the table beside his notepad.  

“I was. I filed for divorce five months ago, but we have been separated since the beginning of last year.” She was speaking only just loud enough for Jesse and Fareeha to hear her, she certainly had something on her mind.

“How did that come ‘bout? Why were you divorcin’ him?”

“I discovered quite late in life that I am not sexually interested in men. I am currently in a relationship with two women, Lena and Emily Oxton.” Amélie folded her arms against her chest, finally lifting her eyes from her lap to look at Fareeha and Jesse directly. Her thumb rubbed along the skin of her finger where her wedding band used to be.

“Would you describe the divorce as amicable, Mrs Lacroix?” Jesse began chewing on the end of his pen, a habit he struggled to break.

“I suppose.” She answered, shrugging her shoulders.

“What were you doin’ at his home tonight? I assume you don’t live there anymore and you were found at the scene.”

Amelie was running her fingers through the ends of her long hair, “He invited me over to discuss the final terms of asset division. We were still arguing over what to do with the house. I wished for him to sell it and he disagreed.” She brought that hand up to her mouth now, chewing on the fingernail of her thumb.

“You sayin’ that’s why you killed him? You two were fightin’ over the house?” Jesse’s eyebrows drew together as he scribbled notes down on his pad of paper.

“Oui.” She answered dispassionately.

He would have expected more emotion in reaction to that question, that caused him to chew on the top of his pen again, “I see. How’d you kill him then?”

“I hit him over the head with a vase. He bought me that one for Christmas two years ago.” She said, sounding almost sad.

Jesse itched at his scalp with the top of his chewed up pen, “Did it kill him instantly or was he still breathing after you hit him?”

“It killed him,” She paused, letting out quiet sigh, “He fell to the ground right after I hit him.”

“How’d you get inside? Did he invite you in?”

Amélie chewed on her bottom lip, taking in a deep breath before answering, “I still have a key to the home, but this time I knocked and waited for him to answer before going inside.”

“I see,” Jesse paused to look in Fareeha’s direction. The stern look on her face made it clear she was buying into this confession more than he was, “How did you arrive at his home?”

“I took the bus. My own car is being repaired.”  

When Jesse finished taking his own notes, he looked back to Fareeha again, raising an eyebrow to silently ask if she had any of her own questions. She shook her head and Jesse stood up from his chair. They had to interview the other two suspects that were waiting for them now. Now that they had Amélie Lacroix’s first confession, they’d spend the rest of the night and following days trying to poke holes into her story.

 


	3. Enter Emily Oxton

Jesse and Fareeha stood in the hallway between the interrogation rooms. He placed his hands on his hips as she began to pace back and forth in the small hallway. It was obvious from just that interview that they were going to be at odds for the rest of this investigation, Jesse knew Fareeha well enough to know she believed Amélie Lacroix’s story. He didn’t know what to believe, but he also knew that whatever she was telling them was not the full story.

“Right, how ‘bout we just move on to the next suspect? Let us get the full picture before we make any decisions on anythin’.” He said, watching Fareeha pace in front of him.

Fareeha finally paused, letting out a long, slow breath, “Fine. Who’s the next person to interview?” 

Jesse flicked through his notes, “Says their name is Emily Oxton. She’s one of the women Amélie mentioned that she was datin’.”

She nodded as Jesse lead them towards the room across the hall, their second interrogation room. The woman, Emily Oxton, was sitting at the table with a completely calm expression on her face. She had long red hair that spilled over her shoulders, freckles that covered her cheeks, and steely grey eyes. Her appearance was almost as striking as that of Amélie’s. 

Jesse pulled out his chair and took a seat directly in front of Emily who was sitting at the table with her arms folded casually against her chest. Her hands were wrapped in bandages but she didn’t seem to be in much pain. Unlike Amélie, who had looked distraught and possibly guilty, Emily seemed unfazed by where she was. He flipped through his notepad to find an empty page and wrote Emily’s name up at the top of it. 

“So, tell me your name.” He said, once again taking the lead in the investigation.  

“My name is Emily Oxton.” She answered, clearing her throat with a cough.

“You been given the chance to contact a lawyer?” He asked, wanting to cover his bases. 

Emily shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the top of the other, “I don’t want one.”

He nodded, noting down the way she refused a lawyer just like Amélie had, “What’s your age and where’re you from?” Jesse removed his hat like he’d done in the last interview, putting it aside.

“Born in London, England. I’m twenty-nine years old.” Emily stared directly at Jesse, not breaking eye contact. 

“What is your relationship with Gérard Lacroix?” Jesse clicked the top of the pen in his hand a few times before flicking it between his fingers. 

Emily licked her lips and shifted in her seat again, switching which leg was on top, “I don’t have a relationship with him. I am in a relationship with Amélie Lacroix, who was married to Gérard.” 

“So if you don’t have a relationship with Gérard, why’d you kill him?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better read on her emotions. 

She raised an eyebrow, looking between both Jesse and Fareeha before letting out a sigh, “I went over to his home and we argued. He was dragging out the divorce and making life harder for Amélie. I lost my temper as we fought so I grabbed the vase from where it was on the side table and hit him over the head with it.” 

“I see,” He said, pausing for a moment as he wrote some more notes on his paper, “Tell me, did he die instantly or was he still breathing after you hit him?” 

“He died instantly.” Emily answered with a blunt tone, reaching up to brush some of her hair out of her eyes. Her disinterest caused Fareeha to give him a look, they were feeling the same amount of unease in this interrogation.

Jesse hummed and ran his fingers through his own hair, “You have cuts on your hands, we’ve taken photographs of those already, yeah?” He asked, waiting for Emily to nod in response, “How’d you get them?”

She chewed at her lower lip, taking a moment to relax her shoulders before answering, “I cut my hands when I cleaned up the broken pieces of the vase.” 

Fareeha shifted forward, interrupting Jesse before he could ask another question, “Why did you bother cleaning up the vase pieces? You picked them up only to toss them into the trash can outside and then you confessed to the murder anyway, so, why?” 

Emily looked from Fareeha to Jesse, as if she was checking to make sure she had to answer that question, “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking it through...” She trailed off, letting out a sigh, “I panicked, I guess.” 

“Right.” Fareeha said, sitting back in her chair as she studied Emily closely. Jesse could tell that Fareeha wasn’t particularly satisfied with that answer. 

“What made you decide to call the police then? Why confess?” Jesse asked, clicking the top of his pen again. 

“Like I said, panic,” She paused, looking away for a few moments and pushed her sleeves up to her elbows before giving them her attention again, “I tried to cover it up, realised not too long into it that there was no point and decided to call the police to get it over with.” Emily answered, her expression staying the exact same. 

“There are two other people here who’ve also confessed to the crime, all of you are claimin’ to have done it alone too. What do you say to that?” 

Emily shrugged her shoulders, bringing her bandaged hands to rest on top of the table instead now, “I assume they’ve got their reasons. Maybe they’re trying to protect me.” 

Jesse raised his eyebrow at the disinterest that Emily showed at the idea of others confessing to the same crime. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging out some knots as he clicked the top of his pen a few more times. 

“I guess that’s it for now. We won’t be releasin’ you any time soon, so, get comfy.” He announced, standing up from the table and placing his hat on his head before walking out with Fareeha right behind him.


	4. Enter Lena Oxton

Chapter 4: 

Jesse huffed a laugh as he saw Fareeha leaning against the wall in the hallway, arms folded against her chest. She looked both exhausted and perplexed by the situation they were in. It was rare to get someone who confesses to the crime in the first place, let alone having three separate people confessing to the exact same crime. He could tell that Fareeha hadn’t bought into Emily’s story as much as she had with Amélie, but it had been enough to create some doubt. 

“What’s on your mind, ‘Reeha?” He asked, stepping in front of her now to get her attention. 

“Just wondering who to believe, is all. I’m more inclined to think that Mrs Lacroix is the guilty one, but Emily’s story doesn’t make that easy. Neither story completely fits the facts, either.” Fareeha said with a long sigh, bringing her hand up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. 

“Don’t focus too much on that right now. We still got one more suspect to interview. I bet she will have a story that doesn’t quite fit either,” He paused, hooking his thumbs into his belt buckle, “We’ll have to let them all go at some point in the next day after a few more rounds of interviewin’ and we’ll have to do more investigatin’. Could be one of ‘em, could be all of ‘em, could be none of ‘em. Gotta keep out eyes out for the truth, yeah?” 

Fareeha pursed her lips, staring at the floor beside Jesse’s feet for a moment before nodding, “Good idea, let’s get on with the next interview then.” She said, pushing herself off the wall with a shrug. 

They both filed into the last occupied room. Unlike the other two suspects, this woman paced the width of the room with her hands resting on the back of her head, fingers curled into her brown mop of hair. Jesse couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the bright orange leggings she was wearing. He cleared his throat to get her attention. 

“Take a seat. You had a chance to contact a lawyer yet?” He asked, taking his own seat at the table. 

“They asked me if I wanted one, told them I don’t.” She replied, running her hands through her hair. 

Jesse nodded, already expecting that answer from the last two interviews, “What’s your name?” 

“Lena Oxton.” She answered, now slouching in her seat as if being told to take a seat had deflated her of all her energy.

“What’s your age and where were you born?” He asked, clicking the top of his pen so he could use it to write. 

“Twenty-six. Born in London, England. Moved here with Emily two years ago, after we got married.” 

He chewed his lip for a moment, “How do you know Gérard Lacroix? What’s your relationship with him?” 

“He’s the husband of mine and Emily’s girlfriend, Amélie Lacroix. S’pose it’d be was now, not is.” Lena scratched at her forehead with blunt, torn nails. 

“Did you know him well?” He asked, watching her scratch at the skin of her nail beds. It seemed to be a nervous habit. 

“Not really. Met the guy, like, once before tonight.” She leaned forward, resting her crossed arms on the table top. 

“If you didn’t know him well, why’d you kill him?” Jesse flicked the pen in his hand between his fingers, waiting on Lena’s answer. 

“Amélie told me he took some money from her, hidden it in the middle of the divorce proceedings so he didn’t look like he was worth all that much,” Lena’s eyes flicked between Fareeha and Jesse as she spoke, “So I got angry and headed over there.” 

“You went over with the intention to kill him?” Jesse asked, surprised by her answer. The other two hadn’t admitted to premeditation. He was shocked by the way she was willing to offer that information up so freely. 

“Yeah, went over and broke in through the back door,” She said, shrugging her shoulders, “Caught him by surprise and hit him over the head with the vase.” Lena brought her thumb up to her mouth, chewing on the already mostly torn nail. 

“Did he die immediately or did he keep breathin’ for a while after you hit him?” Jesse asked, brow furrowed.

“I hit him, he went down right away so I’m guessing he died when I hit him. So, immediately, I suppose.” 

Jesse kept on staring at Lena for a moment, trying to see any kind of emotion or tell on her face that would give away what she was thinking. He sat back in his chair and brought the tip of his pen to his mouth, “We confiscated your shoes, had blood all through the tracks in it, how’d that happen?” He chewed on the top of the pen. 

“Happened when I went to clean up the bits of the vase, slipped and stepped in his blood as I was picking up the pieces. Tried to clean them off with the hose outside but it didn’t work so well.” Lena shrugged as she switched to biting on the nails of her index and middle fingers.

“Right,” He paused, clicking the top of his pen a few times, “What made you call the police?” Jesse watched her closely again, he wasn’t going to let anything slip by him.  

“Figured I was gunna get caught and I didn’t want to drag Emily and Amélie into this if I could confess.” 

“They’re in the other interrogation rooms, both of them have confessed as well, so that hasn’t worked out.” He said, scribbling down some notes on the pad of paper in front of him.

“Somethings don’t always worked out like you hope.” She shrugged again, eyes now glued to the table rather than the detectives in front of her. 

“I see,” He leaned forward, trying to come down to Lena’s line of sight, “Are you tryin’ to protect someone, Lena?” 

She paused, lifting her eyes to make direct eye contact with Jesse, “No, I’m not protecting anyone. I killed him myself, alone.” 

Jesse let out a long sigh, sitting back in his chair before closing his notepad and standing up from the table, “You get comfy, it’s goin’ to be a long night in here.”


	5. Detectives on the Case

Jesse watched silently as Fareeha made them both a cup of filter coffee in the small police station kitchen a few paces from his desk. She always preferred to be the one to do it, insisting that Jesse couldn’t make it right, though, he had no idea how someone could make filter coffee _wrong_.

Fareeha came back towards him, putting his mug in front of him on his desk before settling at her own desk directly in front of Jesse’s. She shuffled her chair in and took a long sip of her coffee before letting out a relieved sigh. He smirked at her from behind the lip of his own mug and took a first sip. It tasted like crap, as always.

After a few minutes of silence between them, Jesse finally spoke up, “Thoughts and theories?”

“I’ve got a few. Based on what we have, I’m thinking that Mrs Lacroix is the one who killed Gérard. Whether Emily and Lena Oxton helped her to try cover it up or they actually participated in killing him, I don’t know…” She trailed off, putting her mug back down onto her desk, “It doesn’t seem like it was planned, considering what weapon was used.”

“I don’t know if it was any of them, if I’m honest. I know we picked them up and they were all covered in blood but,” Jesse pursed his lips, picking up his chewed up pen and flicking it between his fingers, “Somethin’ just seems off to me. Guess we’ll find out the truth either way.”

Fareeha nodded along as he spoke, flipping through the pages of her notes, “If you had to suggest that one of them was the killer, who would you think did it?”

“I don’t know. I have a feelin’ it wasn’t Lena Oxton, at least.” He said, removing his hat and placing it aside.

“Why do you say that?”

Jesse chuckled and sat back in his chair, leaning as far as he could in it, “Because Mr Lacroix is, what? Six-foot-three? Lena Oxton is five-foot-four at most, there’s no way she hit that man over the head with that vase, not unless she got a runnin’ start or stood on a stool.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the image of a woman Lena’s size trying to run and jump with a vase in hand.

“That... That makes a lot of sense.” Fareeha murmured, bringing her mug up to her lips and taking another sip of it.

Jesse gave a shrug of his shoulders as he removed his serape, hanging it over the edge of his desk for now. They’d spent all night interviewing the women, each of them four different times by now. It seemed like they’d got all the information that they could from them for now, but they were hesitant to let them go. Or at least, hesitant to let Amélie Lacroix go.

“So, what do you wanna do about keepin’ them? We have to charge them if we wanna keep ‘em much longer.” He asked, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

It took Fareeha a few moments to respond, obviously milling over her answer in her mind, “We should let Lena Oxton go, for now. We have her tailed by some officers in uniform and see if she does anything. Keep the other two for a little while longer and see what happens, if we get nothing, we also release them with police surveillance while we try see where the investigation leads us,” She chewed at her lower lip, “Thoughts?”

“Sounds good to me, I’ll cut her loose.” Jesse announced, standing up from his desk with one final, long sip of his coffee.

He headed down the small hallway to the investigation rooms, opening the second door on the right that currently housed Lena Oxton. She had returned to pacing back and forth, still just in her socks since they’d confiscated her shoes. He cleared his throat to get her attention and nodded towards the hallway behind him.

“We’re lettin’ you go.” Jesse said, resting his shoulder against the doorway as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“What?” Lena said, scrambling towards where Jesse was standing, “Why? I did it, I killed him.”

Jesse snorted, trying to keep in a laugh. He wasn’t sure whether it was the way she’d moved, her tone of voice, or the idea that she had been the one to kill Gérard that had been funny, “We don’t have enough evidence to charge you, so for now, we’re lettin’ you go. If we find somethin’ that proves you did it beyond blood on your shoes, we’ll charge you.” He stepped back from the doorway, holding the door open for Lena to follow him out into the hall.

She gave a long sigh, putting her hands in the pockets of her bomber jacket before following Jesse out into the hall. They both walked in silence through the police station, past Fareeha’s desk and the kitchen and straight back through to the no longer empty reception. He pointed out a uniformed police officer that was standing by the front doors.

“That is Officer Saltzman, he’s gonna take you back home in his cruiser. Don’t make any plans to leave town any time soon, we might have more questions to ask,” Jesse paused, pursing his lips as he looked down at Lena, “Or charges to press, if we find somethin’.” He added, not wanting her to protest about being released in front of the whole reception.

“Okay,” She took in a deep breath, “How long until they release Amélie and Emily as well?”

Jesse shrugged, “Don’t know. Don’t believe we’ll hold them too much longer, but I make no promises.”

Lena nodded and walked over to Officer Saltzman who was waiting for her. She still didn’t have any shoes on, not that they had much to give her for the journey home. Jesse kept watch until they had both gotten into the police cruiser out front and made their way out of the parking lot in front of the station. He scratched at his scalp, letting out a long sigh before he headed back to his desk. They had another round of questioning to go.

* * *

 

Jesse didn’t get home until well past seven that night, having been gone for over fifteen hours now. Genji was waiting at home for him with dinner already made and sitting in the microwave, covered in saran wrap. He first went and took a long shower, letting the hot water ease the tension built up in his muscles from such a long day. It hadn’t been very physically intensive, but sitting in shitty chairs all day was never good for the back.

He got dressed into a pair of brown shorts and a grey t-shirt before heading back to the kitchen, removing the saran wrap from his dinner and setting the microwave to heat for a minute. Jesse watched the plate rotate inside until the machine dinged, signalling that it was ready to take out. After that, he joined Genji on the couch with his hot plate in his lap, knife and fork in one hand, and a cold bottle of beer in the other.

Genji was watching some soap opera that Jesse vaguely recognised. He would sit and watch these shows with him but had a hard time keeping track, partly because of his weird work schedule and partly because they seemed all the same to him. A smile grew on Jesse’s face as he felt Genji’s arm rest along his shoulders, pulling the two of them closer together. He didn’t mind that it made it harder to eat his dinner.

When he was finished with his beer and his dinner, he placed both of them on the coffee table and put up his feet, pulling Genji over to sit in his lap instead. Jesse waited until the credits for the TV show they were watching began to roll before he spoke.

“How was your day, darlin’?”

“Nothing too exciting, Not as stressful as yours must have been, I’m sure. I saw all over the news about the murder scene you were called to last night.” Genji said, resting his head against the top of Jesse’s shoulder.

He shrugged slightly in response, “Murder isn’t the hard part. Hard part is we have three people who’ve confessed.”

Genji raised an eyebrow at him, “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Normally, but they’ve all confessed and their stories don’t line up and they keep insistin’ that they did it alone.” He let out a sharp exhale, running his hand up and down Genji’s back to soothe the both of them.

“I see. That must be difficult.”

“For now. We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

 


	6. Always Talk to the Lawyer

The following morning Jesse sat at his desk, hunched over his notepad as he flicked through what he had written in the previous day. His serape and hat rested on the desk beside his elbow, set aside so he could truly focus. If they didn’t come up with anything more in the next hour, they were going to have to send Amélie Lacroix and Emily Oxton home, even if they were going to be watched.

Fareeha strode into the office with a brown paper bag in one hand and a takeaway cup of coffee in the other. She was still wearing sunglasses as she made her way inside. Jesse knew from that alone that Fareeha had spent all night looking over their notes, possibly only getting three or four hours sleep if she was lucky.

Jesse smirked as Fareeha slumped down into her chair at her desk, dumping her bag on the desktop, “Shit night?” He asked.

“Is it that obvious?” Fareeha asked as she lifted her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose to reveal the dark rings under her eyes.

“You never buy breakfast from the place you get your coffee, not if you can bring your own.” He said and pointed towards the brown bag she’d been carrying, the front covered in grease stains giving away the contents.

Fareeha tossed her sunglasses onto the top of the desk and shrugged her jacket off, putting it aside, “I made an interesting discovery last night while searching through all our notes and information we have on Mr Lacroix.”

“Interestin’ enough to keep Mrs Lacroix and Mrs Oxton in custody or to bring charges?”

She shook her head, opening the brown bag and pulling out what looked to be a scramble egg breakfast wrap, “My mother is Gérard Lacroix’s lawyer. She was handling his divorce.”

Jesse’s mouth hardened into a thin line. He knew exactly how little Fareeha and her mother got along, “You want me to handle the interview alone then?”

“It might be for the best if you want it to end without any arguing,” She sighed, bringing the wrap to her mouth and taking a bite of it, “I’ll finish my breakfast then we’ll let the two suspects go with their uniformed officers, then you can go interview my mother while I take care of some paper work here, sound good?”

“Sounds good to me.” He confirmed, reaching for his half empty cup of coffee.

It was another thirty minutes before they went and released Amélie Lacroix and Emily Oxton from their interrogation rooms. Mrs Lacroix was still wearing the coroners scrubs that had been given to her when they took her clothes for evidence and Mrs Oxton looked like she was in need of a proper chance to lie down. Jesse informed them on what was happening, telling them that while they aren’t currently under arrest, that they still were being looked at and the investigation was still going ahead. He told them they shouldn’t think of leaving town any time soon.

Amélie remained completely silent as Jesse gave them their instructions and lead them through to the reception so a uniformed officer could escort them back home. Emily, on the other hand, said a few quiet ‘thank yous’. He waited by the front doors, watching them climb into the car and the car to drive out of the parking lot before Jesse made his way back to his desk.

Jesse grabbed his jacket, serape, and hat, putting them on before grabbing his notes. He’d already scribbled Ana Amari’s office address on the top of the page and Fareeha said she’d be expecting him.

The office wasn’t too far from the station, just a five minute drive with almost no traffic. The building itself was large, three storeys and made out of a dark orange brick. Jesse parked his car on the street right out front and made his way to the front door, slipping inside with the chime of the bell above it.

On the wall to his right was a gold plated plaque that informed him that Ana Amari’s office was on the top floor. He made his way up the tight staircase and knocked at the door. There was silence for a few moments and as he went to knock again, the door opened just a fraction with a chain dangling. The woman behind it was shorter than he expected, causing him to look down to find her, and had long grey hair tied up in a plait.

“Who are you?” She asked. Her accent was almost the exact same as Fareeha’s.

“I’m Detective Jesse McCree and I’m assumin’ you’re Ana Amari. Your daughter told me to come here, said you were Gérard Lacroix’s lawyer and might be able to help me figure some stuff out.” He said, flashing as charming a grin he could muster.

Ana raised an eyebrow at him, “I see.” She then closed the door in his face.

Jesse raised his hand to try knock again when he heard the sliding and opening of various locks on the other side of the door before it was opened completely. Ana stepped aside and gave him room to be able to come inside. The first thing he noticed was that the office seemed to have almost no kind of organisation. Papers were stacked everywhere in various files and Jesse couldn’t help but wonder how she ever found anything.

The clicking of Ana’s shoes against the wooden floor as she walked back to her desk brought him out of his thoughts. He closed the door behind himself and slipped his notepad out of his jacket pocket, clicking the pen attached to it so he could write. On top of Ana’s desk was a file labeled _‘Gérard Lacroix - Divorce’_.

“Did you handle any other parts of Gérard’s legal business?” He asked, staring at the file on her desk.

“No, I have only handled his divorce so far. He didn’t seem to have much need for lawyers based on our conversations.” Ana said, picking up a cup of tea by the saucer and moving it closer to the centre of the desk.

“Right. May I?” Jesse asked, gesturing to the seat right in front of her desk. When she nodded, he sat down, “So, tell me, how was the divorce goin’ between Mr and Mrs Lacroix?”

“In what sense?” She asked back, bringing her tea cup to her lips for a sip.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat to get comfortable, “I mean, did he and Mrs Lacroix get along? They fight much durin’ the proceedings?”

“Not particularly, no. It was a rather civil divorce. I could tell from my discussions with Mr Lacroix that he was sad to see his wife leave him, but it didn’t seem like he held any resentment for it.” Ana shifted her plait to rest on the front of her left shoulder.

“So Gérard wasn’t draggin’ things out?” He asked, scratching at his hairline under his hat.

“The exact opposite, actually. He was proceeding at a pace that he had Amélie decide on, she got to set the dates and he would show up, more than willing to help out. The only thing they had left to discuss was what to do with the house and we had a date set for…” Ana trailed off as she looked through a small leather bound diary, ”Next Thursday for that to happen.”

“What did Gérard plan on askin’ for at the meeting? Did he wanna keep the house or was he plannin’ on sellin’ it?” He asked, twirling the pen between his index and middle fingers.

“Gérard likes the house and I believe his preference was to keep it so he could live in it, but he also seemed to be interested in giving Amélie whatever she wanted. Whether that was giving her the house or to sell it to split the profits. As far as I know, Amélie Lacroix didn’t have any interest in keeping the house for herself.” She said, leaning back in her office chair as it groaned in complaint.

“Right,” Jesse scribbled that down on his notepad, “So he wasn’t hidin’ any money from Mrs Lacroix? Anythin’ that might get him killed?”

Ana gave a lopsided shrug, “Not as far as I am aware. If I had any knowledge that he was hiding assets from Amélie, I wouldn’t have taken his case any further. I prefer to not get involved in divorce preceedings like that.”

Jesse nodded and finished off his notes, “I think that’s all the questions I gotta ask you. Anything else come to mind that I haven’t brought up?”

“I don’t think so. If you have any other questions, you can come back and ask if you call first.” She gave him a warm smile as he stood up and made his way out of the office.

* * *

 

Lena was sat on the couch, kicking her feet back and forth as she waited. It’d been nearly twelve hours since she’d been released from police custody and she was waiting for Amélie and Emily to join her at home. She had spent the night barely able to sleep, only getting a few hours after four in the morning before sitting on the floor of her shower as the water ran down her back.

She was almost ready to grab her coat and head out to the police station to demand to know how much longer they planned to keep Amélie and Emily in custody when the front door to their apartment opened. Lena jumped up from the couch and ran into the entrance hallway to find the two of them making their way through the front door. She couldn’t keep herself from leaping towards them and pulling the both of them into a tight embrace.

Emily and Amélie did their best to return the hug despite the awkward angles of it. Amélie eventually pulled away and slowly walked towards the bathroom, finding the shower and beginning to run the water. Emily kept hold of Lena for a while longer, combing her fingers through her unruly hair before finally letting go too.

“How was it? They treat you guys fair in there?” Lena asked, walking alongside Emily as they made their way into the living room.

“Besides terrible takeaway they had picked up from somewhere nearby, the lack of showers and the fact that there wasn’t a proper bed, they treated us fine, I suppose.” Emily removed her own jacket, hanging it over the back of the couch for now as she stepped out of her shoes.

“How’s Ame?” Lena asked, flicking her eyes over to the open bathroom door where Amélie was already taking a shower.

“Hasn’t said a word since they let us go,” Emily said, fiddling with the bandages that wrapped around her hands, “Not even when we were alone in the elevator.”  

“Anything you think we can do to comfort her? Wine and a massage? Something like that?”

“I think what she needs right now, pet, is for us to all to get a chance to sleep before we talk about anything else.” Emily reached out, brushing Lena’s hair from her face.

“S’fair enough.” Lena murmured when she felt Emily kiss her forehead.

“I’m going to take a shower after she’s done. How about you get ready for bed?”

“Anything for you, love.”

  
  



	7. Mother and Daughter

Fareeha had been half asleep at her desk when she felt her phone buzzing against her chest from where it was tucked inside her jackets breast pocket. She was startled by it, sitting up right in her seat as she tried to quickly fish her hand around inside the pocket to grab it before whoever was calling hung up. Her eyebrows drew together when she saw the caller ID -  _ Ana Amari _ . 

After a few seconds, she swiped her thumb across the screen to accept the call and brought it to her ear, “Hello?” 

“Ah, Fareeha. How are you?” 

Fareeha leaned back in her chair, ignoring the complaining creak of its hinges, “I am fine, mother. You never call, what’s this about?” 

There was an almost nervous laugh on the other side of the line, “I am not allowed to call and find out how my daughter is doing?” 

“Like I said, you never call.” Fareeha said in a monotonous voice. 

“Well, if you are going to be like that, I suppose I must get to the point,” There was a short pause, as if Ana was waiting for Fareeha to change her mind, “I am calling because I forgot to mention something to Detective McCree when he was here.” 

“I see. Did you possibly forget this on purpose to have an excuse to call?”

“You wound me,” Ana replied before clearing her throat, “Whether or not it was on purpose, I forgot to inform him of the fact that Gérard Lacroix had mentioned to me a conflict that he was having with someone at his work, Blackwater International. He wouldn’t ever say what it was about, but it did seem to bother him a fair amount. There were some heated phone calls.” 

Fareeha sat forward, desperately searching for a pen before scribbling this information down onto her notepad, “Did he ever mention any names?” 

“I believe he used the name Jack on the phone once when I was eavesdropping.” Ana said and Fareeha couldn’t help but roll her eyes. It was so like her mother to listen in on someone else’s phone calls. 

“Is there anything else you’ve possibly ‘forgotten’ to mention to us?” 

Ana sighed dramatically, “I might have, you know how old I am getting now, dear. He may have mentioned that he was dating someone new, a woman he had met online.” 

“Did he ever mention a name?” 

“Alice something,” She paused, humming as if she were thinking, “I don’t know if he ever gave a last name and if he did, I wasn’t listening. You should do that thing where they check search histories on the computer, maybe you can find-” 

“I don’t need advice on how to do my job, mother. I already know how to be a detective.” Fareeha couldn’t keep the child-like whine out of her voice. Speaking to her mother made her feel like she was fifteen again. 

“I know, dear, I know. I love you, habibti.” 

Fareeha let out a slow breath before speaking, “I love you too.” 

As soon as the call disconnected, she walked the short from her desk to the kitchen and found Jesse making himself one of his disgusting sandwiches, and she couldn’t help the cringe that followed. He would always use a minimum of four slices of bread, two types of meat (usually roast beef and salami), mayonnaise  _ and _ hollandaise, three or four kinds of cheeses, and not a single vegetable in sight. 

Jesse grinned at her as he picked the sandwich up in both hands, some sauce and meat spilling out of the bottom onto the bench below, “What can I do for ya, ‘Reeha?” 

“That’s disgusting,” She murmured, just loud enough for Jesse to hear, “My mother called and told me about some information she ‘forgot’ to give you. Apparently Mr Lacroix had been having disputes with someone at his work, possibly a man named Jack, but she wasn’t certain on that part,” Fareeha cleared her throat, ignoring the fact that she could see Jesse eating his disgusting sandwich now, “He was _also_ seeing someone new, a woman who _might_ be named Alice, from a dating website.” 

“Right, I see.” He said, almost completely muffled by the food in his mouth.

Fareeha rolled her eyes and looked away, beginning to walk back towards their desks, speaking loud enough for Jesse to still hear her, “I’m going to send some techs out to his place and find the woman’s information. When you’re finished eating that…  _ thing _ , we’ll go to Blackwater and find out more about these fights.” 

“Sounds good!” He shouted back, still muffled by the food in his mouth. 

After setting a timer on her phone, Fareeha sat at her desk and organised her notes on another case they had recently closed. It had been much simpler than this one, just a standard break and enter followed by a robbery. She had given Jesse twenty minutes to finish his sandwich and another twenty minutes for the smell of it to dissipate before they were to set off.

Fareeha chose to drive this time, taking her own sedan and insisting to Jesse that he keep his greasy hands off the dashboard. The headquarters for Blackwater International were just over half an hour away and it only took five minutes for Jesse to ignore her instructions and begin fiddling with the stereo system. She rolled her eyes, deciding to let it go just this one time.

They pulled up into the parking lot, managing to secure a spot right by the front doors and they both stepped out. Fareeha locked the car with her remote as they made their way inside, walking through a set of automatic double doors. The reception looked like it belonged more to a finance company rather than a mercenary corps. 

Jesse walked up to the front desk to ask to see whoever was in charge and flashing his badge as Fareeha took a seat. She only had a few seconds to examine the magazines laid out like a fan on the coffee table when a man in dark blue jeans and pressed white shirt entered the room. Jesse shook hands with him before waving her over to join them.

The man stuck his hand out to Fareeha and she shook it before he spoke, “I’m Jack Morrison. I’m the commanding officer of Gérard Lacroix’s unit, I’ve been expecting you guys to show up so I’ve been waiting nearby just incase.” He gave the two of them a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Have you got somewhere a little less public for us to talk?” She asked, gesturing vaguely at the other people sitting in the reception, waiting for something. 

“Yeah, definitely. Follow me.” Jack said, walking towards the door he had previously emerged from. 

They walked through and followed him through a series of hallways, leading them to a closed off board room. Jack took a seat at one of the four chairs on one side of the table while Jesse sat across from him and Fareeha at the end of the table between them. She fished her notepad out of her breast pocket where she had stored it alongside her cellphone. 

“How long had Gérard Lacroix been working for you?” She started off with, clicking her pen and preparing herself to write her notes.

“Do you mean when I became his commanding officer or do you mean when he joined Blackwater?” He asked, shifting in his seat as if to get comfortable before letting out a sigh, “I became his commanding officer about five years ago but Gérard was discharged from the army just short of ten years ago which is when he found employment at Blackwater.” 

“And what kind of relationship did you have with him?” Fareeha asked, jotting down the timeframes that Jack had just given her down on paper, “Were you friends outside of your employment here?” 

“We were, yeah. We’d get drinks every week and before his divorce, I’d come over for dinner with him and Amélie every fortnight, sometimes every three weeks. Depended on who was where I guess. They both travelled a lot, for obvious reasons.” 

Jesse nodded along before interrupting, “So you’d say your friendship with Gérard was good right up until he was killed?” 

“I would say so, yeah,” His eyes flicked between the two of them as if he were trying to figure out what he was missing, “Why?” 

“Because we have a witness sayin’ you and Gérard had been fightin’ in the months that had been leadin’ up to his death.” Jesse was leaning in, watching Jack closely. 

Jack stared at them, saying nothing at first. Fareeha wondered if he was trying to come up with something to say. He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, “I don’t believe so. I certainly don’t remember any  _ fighting _ .” 

“You don’t remember any… heated phone calls?” She asked, looking up from her notes to look Jack directly in the eye. 

“No, definitely not. I would remember if we had fought about something like that.” 

Fareeha nodded, “Do you have a personnel file for him? One that we could get a copy of or take back to the station with us?”

“Yeah, we do. I’ll get reception to send a copy your way when they find it in storage.” 

Jesse sat forward, tapping his fingers on the table, “Would we be able to get some time to talk to some of the guys in his unit? Gotta ask ‘em some questions about him.” 

“Sorry, I can’t spare any time for you to see them,” Jack shifted in his seat again, “We’re leaving on a mission in a few days and we can’t waste any time when we could be preparing ourselves instead.”

Fareeha watched him silently. She didn’t buy it - not with the way he didn’t seem to be able to get comfortable, “Right. Well, if anything comes back to you at all, feel free to call me.” She said, pulling out a business card from her pocket and sliding it towards Jack. 

Both Jesse and Fareeha made a quick exit after that, heading back the way they came without any guidance from Jack. When they were both back in the car, Fareeha finally spoke up. 

“I don’t like him. He’s hiding something by not letting us talk to his men,” She let out a slow breath, relaxing into her seat, “I also think he’s lying.”

Jesse huffed a laugh at that, “You think everyone’s lyin’, ‘Reeha. You also think Mrs Lacroix and both the Oxtons are lyin’ too. Let’s just see where this all takes us before we make any rash decisions, yeah?” 

Fareeha said nothing back, just nodding as she put the key in the ignition and drove out of the parking lot back to the station.

* * *

 

Jesse sighed as he made his way into the apartment, dropping his keys into the small bowl on the table by the door. He hung his belongings on the coat rack and made his way into the living room where Genji was already watching a movie. On the table was an untouched bowl of popcorn and an unopened beer, both of which brought a smile to Jesse’s face. 

He took a seat on the couch beside Jesse, slinging his arm around the back of Genji’s shoulders and pulling him in to place a kiss on his forehead. Genji grabbed the bowl of popcorn, shifting it onto his own lap and passed Jesse the bottle of beer. 

“Thanks, darlin’.” Jesse murmured, popping the cap off the top and letting it fall to the floor as he kicked his feet up onto the table. 

“How was work?” Genji asked, feeding a handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

Jesse shrugged slightly and rested his head against the top of Genji’s, “Nothin’ too excitin’. Seems we might have a new suspect or two, not too sure,” He let out a quiet sigh as he relaxed into the couch, “You know ‘Reeha though, she’s changin’ her mind each time it looks like someone else has done it.”

Genji chuckled and held up a piece of popcorn to Jesse’s lips, “You need to bring her around for dinner sometime. It’s been months.” 

“Maybe after we close the case. You know what she’s like, she’ll forget if we invite her before then.” He murmured before taking the piece of popcorn with his teeth.

“You’re right. Don’t think that means you can delay asking her and think that I’ll forget though.” 

Jesse laughed at that, running his fingers up and down the top of Genji’s arm, “Don’t worry, darlin’. I know I can’t out smart ya.” 

 


	8. Time for Real Talk

Jesse downed the last dregs of his lukewarm filter coffee from the takeaway cup as they sat in Fareeha’s car. They were waiting for the woman that Gérard had been seeing romantically to leave the office building that she worked in. The techs they had sent over to Gérard’s home to find out more information about this woman ended up handing over a piece of paper with only the most basic details on it and a photograph attached with a paperclip. 

The woman was Alice Wilson.They knew she worked in Human Resources at the accounting firm they were currently sitting outside of. As far as they could gather, she was thirty-six years old and looking for love under the username Luvs2Suk. Jesse couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. It made him wonder exactly _ what _ the nature of her and Gérard’s relationship could actually be. 

He shifted in his seat and folded up the piece of paper, resting it in the console of the vehicle as he continued to stare at the front doors. They were still running a search for more information on this woman and didn’t know her home address, yet. Luckily for them, she had advertised her place of employment on her social media accounts that had been attached to her dating profile. 

Jesse jerked up and sat forward intently, his seat belt going taut against his front, as he saw a woman leaving the front doors that matched the photo they had. She was a short woman, barely five-foot-three, with long blonde hair that just a shade darker than what you’d get from a bottle of bleach. He climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him, as he tried to catch up with Alice. The last thing they needed right now was for her to get in her car and drive away without speaking to them. 

Fareeha and Jesse caught Alice shortly before she arrived at her car, flashing their badges to get her attention and force her to stop. She didn’t stop walking until she stood right by the driver’s side door of the car, hand gripping the door handle without pulling it open. Jesse could tell right away that she was more than reluctant to speak to police. 

“Are you Alice Wilson?” Fareeha asked, tucking her badge back into her jackets breast pocket. 

She gave the two of them a sidelong glance, “What’s it to you?” 

“We’re just lookin’ to ask a few questions about the murder of Gérard Lacroix. You know that name?” Jesse asked as he pulled out his notepad and chewed up pen.

“I might do.” Alice said, shifting her handbag further up onto her shoulder.

“He was seein’ you after you guys met on a datin’ website, yeah?” He clicked the top of his pen and watched Alice closely. 

“Look, I only met the guy a handful of times. I’d barely been seeing him more than a couple months and I had nothing to do with whatever this is.” 

Jesse and Fareeha exchanged a look at the defensiveness Alice had started out with, “Can I see some identification, please?” Fareeha asked, holding her hand out. 

Alice let out a slow sigh, watching the two detectives as if they might change their mind before she reached into her handbag and pulled out a bright pink wallet. She unzipped it and pulled out her driver’s licence, placing it in Fareeha’s hand. After Fareeha quickly noted down all the information on the front, she handed it back and Alice climbed into her car. Before Jesse or Fareeha could stop her, she had started the car and backed out of the parking spot, only just missing the detectives before driving out.

“She was in a real hurry to get away from us, don’t ya think?” Jesse asked, scratching at his hairline under the brim of his hat. 

“She definitely has something to hide from us. I don’t know if it means she was the one who killed Gérard or anything else like it, but she has something she doesn’t want us to know about her,” Fareeha said, handing her notepad over to Jesse to let him have a look, “We have her home address now, though. She should be easy to track.”

* * *

 

That evening, neither Fareeha or Jesse went home. They both decided to stay in at the station and order Chinese takeaway from a store just a block down. It was greasy but more than filling and that’s what they needed on a night like this. 

After Fareeha finished her noodles, she stood up from her desk and wheeled over a whiteboard that sat in the corner. She flipped it so the clean, unused side faced both of their desks. Next, she picked up all the photographs she had of each current suspect, Amélie, Emily, Lena, Jack, Alice, and stuck them to the whiteboard using magnets. Underneath each one she began scribbling points and evidence against each one of them. 

_ Amélie _ __   
_ \- Found covered in blood _ __   
_ \- In divorce proceedings with the victim - possible motive?  _ __   
__   
_ Emily  _ __   
_ \- Found covered in cuts and bruises _ __   
_ \- Dating the victims wife _ __   
__   
_ Lena  _ __   
_ \- Shoes covered in blood _ __   
_ \- Dating the victims wife _ __   
__   
_ Jack  _ __   
_ \- Refused to let us talk to his men - hiding something?  _ _   
_ __ \- Allegedly witnessed fighting on the phone with the victim

_ Alice  _ __   
_ \- Dating the victim shortly before his death _ _   
_ __ \- Hugely defensive when interviewed - hiding something? Criminal record? 

Fareeha retook her seat at the desk, picking up some spring rolls and crunching on them as she leaned back in her chair as she admired her work. Jesse stuffed the remaining noodles from his box into his mouth, struggling with the chopsticks in his hands. Fareeha smothered a grin - he was barely able to use chopsticks but he was far too stubborn to give in and use a fork. 

“I think the three of them did it together. Amélie, Emily and Lena. It doesn’t quite make sense just yet but all the physical evidence points there,” Fareeha started, looking over at Jesse as he tried to pick up dumplings with his chopsticks, “Jack and Alice look guiltier than they are, I think. They might have something else they want to hide, but I’m not sure it’s murder.” 

“I don’t think Lena did it myself.” Jesse managed to get out between desperate bites at his dumpling. 

“We already know it’s incredibly unlikely she was the one who did the killing blow.” 

“Don’t mean that,” He shrugged, tossing his chopsticks back down onto the desk, giving up, “I just have a feelin’ she didn’t have anythin’ to do with this. Gut feelin’. Don’t know if I really believe that it was Amélie or Emily either but the evidence is hard to ignore.” 

Fareeha stared at him for a moment before swiveling her chair back to face the whiteboard, “Who would you say it is, then?” 

“I dunno. Guess I’d put my money on Jack Morrison. He’s got the means and we’ll probably find a motive sooner or later. Alice seems real dodgy, but I think she might be hidin’ somethin’ else we’re about to find.”

* * *

 

Lena entered the kitchen, finding Emily at the sink washing up some of the dishes from their dinner that evening. She had decided to use the opportunity created by Amélie being in the shower to come speak to her privately. It was hard to find time when Emily was at work all day. 

“How’re you feeling, love?” She started, running her hand over the top of Emily’s shoulders in a soothing gesture. 

“A bit tired. A bit stressed. Nothing I can’t handle. How about you, pet?” Emily answered. It seemed she was deliberately avoiding the subject of Gérard’s murder still. 

“I’m fine, I guess. Not sleeping as well as I used to.” 

“Oh?” Emily asked, as if she didn’t know what Lena was talking about. 

Lena decided to get cut to the chase, “You think Amélie did it?”

Emily let out a sigh and put the plate in her hands back into the soapy water contained in the sink in front of her. She gave a small shrug and chewed on her lower lip as if she were considering her answer. 

“I don’t know, Lena. I’m confident that she didn’t…” She trailed off, letting her shoulders sag, “Confident enough anyway. It doesn’t matter, whether she did it or not, we’re going to protect her, right?” Emily looked Lena in the eye, obviously waiting for Lena’s agreement.

“Of course.” 


	9. New Lovers

Jesse picked his notepad and pen up off the top of his desk and made his way towards the interrogation rooms. Fareeha was waiting for him in the hallway, arms crossed against her chest as she stared off into nothing. He came up behind her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder to get her attention. 

“Ready?” He asked her. 

“Tired, but, yeah. I’m ready.” Fareeha gave him a drained smile before opening the door to the first interrogation room and holding it open for him. 

Inside, waiting for them, was Amélie Lacroix. They had decided late last night to call her back in for another interview first thing that morning. Amélie looked a lot more together compared to the last time they had spoken. She was dressed in her own clothes for one thing, wearing a nicely pressed blouse with her hair pinned up at the back of her head in a bun. There was a light amount of makeup on her face, just eyeliner and red lipstick. Amélie didn’t seem to take much notice of their entry until the detectives took a seat at the table across from her. 

“Amélie Lacroix,” Jesse started, dropping his notepad onto the table and clicking his pen in preparation to write notes, “You still insistin’ that you killed Gérard?” 

“Oui.” She answered, eyes locked on the tile floor to the right of the table. 

Fareeha took a deep breath in and leaned forward, resting both her arms on the table top. Jesse let her take the lead, “You know what my theory is?” 

It took a few seconds but Amélie looked up, staring Fareeha right in the eyes, “What is your theory?” 

“I believe you killed Gérard and had your girlfriends clean up the mess. I think they’re lying because they want to protect you and they  _ hoping _ that if you all confess and tell different stories that we’ll get confused and won’t be able to convict you,” Fareeha paused, waiting for Amélie to say anything in her own defence, “It’s unfortunate for them. We’re a lot smarter than that and we  _ know  _ you did it,” She leaned back in her chair, “We just don’t know  _ why _ .” 

“I already told you why.” Amélie murmured, returning her gaze to her hands resting in her lap as she began tearing at her fingernails. 

“We’ve checked up on your motive. Detective McCree here spoke to Gérard’s lawyer who said that everything was going well in your divorce, that you were getting everything that you wanted from him,” Fareeha chewed her own lip, looking at Jesse for just a moment before continuing, “You said you fought over the house and yet, he was apparently looking to give you just what you wanted, whatever it may be. So tell me, why did you  _ really _ kill him?” 

Amélie took in a shaky breath, as if she were only just holding back tears now, “I already  _ told  _ you. I killed him because he wouldn’t give me the house.” 

Fareeha let out an aggravated sigh, standing up from her seat and walking around to Amélie’s side and looming over her now, “You want to know what  _ I  _ think you did it for?” 

Amélie just stared at her. 

“I think you found out about his new girlfriend.  _ I  _ think you found out and you got angry because you couldn’t have your cake and eat it too,” Fareeha didn’t seem to notice the flash of surprise on Amélie’s face, but Jesse did, “You wanted to have your girlfriends and the husband that loves you, even when you’re divorced.” 

Once again, Amélie said nothing. She almost seemed to shrink in her chair, leaning over the edge of the table and resting her head in her hands. 

“‘Reeha, that’s enough for now,” Jesse interrupted, standing up and putting his hand on her shoulder, “Let’s give her a break and come back, yeah?”

Fareeha hesitated at first, staring at Amélie - who was completely still - before backing off completely and heading out the door. Jesse shoved his notepad in his pocket and followed after her as quickly as possible. 

“Your theory makes no sense, ‘Reeha. Do you actually believe that shit?” He said, his voice just short of a yell.

She shrugged, “How do I know that’s  _ not  _ true? There has to be some kind of motive, Jesse. If it’s not money and it’s not jealousy, then what is it?” 

“I dunno. All I know is, she couldn’t have killed him over some new girlfriend.” 

Fareeha eyed him carefully, folding her arms against her chest, “Why do you say that?” 

“Well, for one thing, she was divorcin’ the guy. You don’t put in that kinda effort if you want someone to  _ stay _ in love with you. She could have easily chosen to just cheat on him behind his back, he wouldn’t have been home enough to know otherwise,” He took a deep breath, “And second, she was  _ surprised _ to hear that Gérard was seein’ Alice. Unless she’s a real good actress, she didn’t know and couldn’t have done it. For that reason, anyway.” 

“I suppose you’re right,” Fareeha chewed her lip, “If it’s not jealousy and it’s not money, then what is it?” 

“If it  _ is  _ her, and that’s still an  _ if _ , we’ll find out why. We have to get it right, you know that.” 


	10. Disappearing Act

Amelie frowned deeply when she walked into the living room of the apartment she shared with Lena and Emily. The two of them were curled up together watching something on TV, probably one of those car shows that Lena loved so much. When she entered the room, Lena practically sprung out of her chair and Emily sat forward, both of their eyes on her.

“What happened?” Lena started, “Obviously they didn’t arrest you, which is good, but what happened?”

Amelie reached out, putting her hand on Lena’s shoulder to help calm her down, “They seem to have a theory that we murdered Gerard together. Well, a theory that I murdered him and that the two of you agreed to help me cover it up all because he has been seeing a new woman.”

Emily stood up and guided Amelie to take a seat on the couch, “A new woman?” She asked, running her hand up and down Amelie’s upper arm in a soothing gesture.

“Oui,” Amelie kicked her boots off, “They believe I was jealous that he was beginning to move on and wanted to stop whatever it was between them.”

Lena settled in on the couch beside her, hand finding her lower back, “But that makes no sense, love. Why would you divorce him if you wanted to keep him wrapped around your finger like that? Are they stupid?”

Amelie shrugged, “I did not even know that he had begun seeing someone knew. I am glad, though.”

“Glad?” Emily asked, squeezing her bicep gently.

“Even if it did not last long, I am glad that Gerard had begun to move on. I was afraid that he would remain stuck for much longer.” She sighed, relaxing back into the couch and closing her eyes.

At least one good thing had come from all of this.

* * *

 

Jesse had been half asleep at his desk when Fareeha came up behind him, clapping him on the back hard. He jerked forward in his seat in surprise, nearly knocking over his coffee mug that had been resting on the desk over the side. Fareeha walked around the edge of the desk, taking a seat at her own on the other side with a smug smirk.

“You fucker.” Jesse grumbled, unable to hide the grin that was growing on his face now.

“That’s what you get for falling asleep at your desk.” She retorted, organising some of the papers on her desk.

“I was havin’ my lunch break. Can sleep on my lunch break if I wanna.” He grumbled, eyebrows drawn together as he pouted.

“Your lunch break ended nearly an hour ago. I let you sleep longer because I felt sorry for you.” Fareeha teased before reading one of the post-it notes that had been left on the top of her desk.

Jesse rolled his eyes and relaxed back into his chair, ignoring the protesting groan it let out as it reclined, “Anythin’ new?”

“Nothing new or interesting, for this case anyway,” She tossed the post-it aside for now, “We should head back over to Alice Wilson’s house and try get a proper statement from her since we’ve hit a bit of a dead end with Mrs Lacroix.”

He nodded, forcing himself out of his chair with a dramatic sigh, “Sounds like a plan.” He picked up all his gear and packed them away into the pockets of his jacket, looping his badge over his belt for now.

They took Jesse’s sedan, making their way across town to pull up outside of Alice Wilson’s address. It was a small three story apartment building made from dusty red brick. He got out first, waiting for Fareeha to follow before locking the car and making their way up the front steps of the building. To the right of the front door was a series of buzzers, Jesse found the one with Alice Wilson scribbled on a piece of paper next to it and he pressed it.

There was no response. Jesse pressed it again.

After three attempts, Jesse pressed the buzzer beneath it for another apartment and asked the woman on the other side to let them in. It took a little convincing but the door in front of them unlocked and they were allowed inside. They made their way up the main staircase to the top floor where Alice Wilson’s apartment was located and knocked on the door. A few moments later, the woman who had let them into the building came up from the second floor, standing on the steps behind them.

“You’re looking for Alice?” The woman asked, announcing her presence, “She already left.”

Jesse turned around, flashing her the police badge that had been looped through his belt before speaking, “Left? Do you know where she went?”

The woman shrugged, “She left first thing this morning with big suitcases, knocked on my door and asked for help to bring her bags down the stairs. Alice said she was going on holiday and wouldn’t be back for a few weeks. Is she in trouble?”

“Don’t know just yet. We were hopin’ to talk to her and find out some more information,” Jesse let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “You got any idea where she’s gone? Or when she’ll come back?”

“No clue, sorry. I didn’t even know she was going anywhere until first thing this morning, normally she tells me that sort of stuff.”

“Are you two close?” Fareeha asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Not really, but I am her landlord. I own the building. If you come back with a warrant, I’ll let you in, but not before then.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Jesse murmured, “Let’s go, ‘Reeha.” He said, waving her to follow him down the stairs.

Fareeha waited until they were back down on the street, standing out by Jesse’s car, before speaking again, “How interesting that we try to speak to her yesterday and she’s conveniently out of town on holiday today.”

“You thinkin’ that’ll be enough to get a warrant to look in her apartment?”

“Doubt it,” She sighed as she opened the passenger side door, “We’ll need more than her going away on holiday at the wrong time to convince a judge of anything.”

“Let’s get on goin’ then.”


	11. Out Comes the Truth, Maybe.

Jesse let out a sigh as he sat back down at his desk with a hot, fresh mug of filter coffee in one hand and his hat in the other. He placed them both down on the desktop and turned on his computer, idly flicking through some of the department emails he’d received. It was nothing interesting, something about someone’s birthday, something about bringing kids into work for a day. 

What  _ did  _ catch his attention though was Fareeha stalking her way into the room with a piece of paper in hand. She didn’t look angry, just determined. Fareeha slapped the paper down on the desk in front of Jesse, knocking his mug of coffee. It wasn’t enough to knock it over entirely but some spilled over the top. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“And what’s this, ‘Reeha? What’s so damn important that you spilt my fuckin’ coffee?”

“Alice Wilson,” She announced, as if that was enough of an answer, “Alice Wilson is in the Maldives on holiday.” 

“What’s your point?” He shrugged, “We already knew she was gone.” 

“She left because she’s been committing tax fraud.” Fareeha pointed out on the paper, showing him some numbers he didn’t truly understand. 

“So she owes the government like…” He paused as he skimmed the paper, “Fifteen thousand dollars?” 

“Yes. I think that’s enough for motive, don’t you?” 

“I suppose so. There’ve been cases of people murderin’ others over like fifty bucks so I guess she might’ve.” Jesse gave a non-commital shrug. 

Fareeha’s brow furrowed in confusion, “You don’t seem very impressed or interested by this information.” 

“Well, she might’ve done it for this, yeah. We’d need proof that he even knew she was doin’ it though, and even if we  _ did _ have proof, she’s in the Maldives. We still have to wait until she gets back before we do anythin’,” He cleared his throat and sat up, crossing one leg over the other, “Far as I know, there ain’t an extradition treaty with them.” 

She made her way back around the desks to take her own seat, “Guess so.” 

“You find any proof that she was plannin’ the holiday or was it sudden?” He asked, picking his mug up to take a sip of his half spilt coffee.

“Turns out she’d been planning it. It definitely was convenient in a way. Though, I guess she could have purchased plane tickets and book a hotel room in anticipation that Gerard would be dead.” 

Jesse shrugged again, sipping quietly at his coffee. 

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until she gets back to find out more from her.  _ If  _ she comes back, that is.” Fareeha mused aloud. 

The two of them sat in silence for twenty minutes as Jesse scrolled through his emails - most of which he’d read already - and Fareeha went through her case notes. A uniformed officer then made his way through to their desks, standing beside Fareeha with his hands on his belt. 

“Detectives?” He asked, trying to get their attention. 

“Yeah?” Jesse looked up from his computer screen, seeing the officer’s name on his badge, “Officer Johnson?” 

“Came here to let you two know that the guy you were having watched, Jack Morrison? Yeah, he’s leaving the country tomorrow with his company, Blackwater International Corps,” Officer Johnson’s eyes flicked between the two of them, “Heading to Syria on a private charter plane.” 

Jesse looked right at Fareeha now, “Guess we need to head right back there. We need to speak to Jack Morrison’s superior and get permission to go around his head.” 

She was standing up and gathering her belongings so they could leave, “Already ahead of you.” 

They piled into Jesse’s sedan, driving a little over the speed limit to make their way back to the Blackwater headquarters. Even though the flight wasn’t until tomorrow, Jesse was feeling jumpy. One suspect was already in the wind, they couldn’t risk losing another one. He parked poorly in front of the building, tires crossing both lines of the parking space. 

He climbed out of the car first and made his way inside, not even waiting for Fareeha to follow him. Jesse made his way straight to the front desk and tapped the bell even when the woman working was right there in front of him. She fixed him a look and he knew he had to calm himself down. 

“What?” She asked, obviously unimpressed. 

“I need to speak to whoever Jack Morrison’s supervisor is, right now.” He said, pulling his badge out and dropping it on the desk in front of her.

The woman eyed it for a second before picking up the phone and dialing a number. Fareeha came up behind him, resting her hand on his upper back and looking at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“You alright? You ran in here pretty fast.” Fareeha asked, concern evident in her voice.

“Yeah, just eager. Last thing we need is to get stuck with this investigation any more than we have.” 

The woman behind the desk cleared her throat to get their attention, “Mr King is making his way down. He’ll be able to help you. Please, take a seat in the waiting area.” 

Both Jesse and Fareeha made their way over to the seats lined up against the wall. They didn’t have to wait very long. The supervisor, Mr King, made his way down the main staircase only five minutes later. He was a short but stocky man with dark brown hair. Jesse would have guessed he used to be a soldier himself by his build, but now he wore an expensive navy suit. 

Mr King held his hand out to Jesse and then to Fareeha to shake their hands before leading them into a nearby conference room. None of them bothered to take a seat at the table and Mr King never offered. 

“How can I help you, detectives?” 

“We need to speak to the men serving in Jack Morrison’s unit. When we were here last time, we asked Jack Morrison himself and he rejected our request so we need you to go over his head and let us do that before they leave the country tomorrow.” Fareeha said, remaining calm when Jesse couldn’t. 

“I see,” Mr King pursed his lips, “I suppose I could have that arranged. Would you give me twenty minutes to organise it?” 

“Sure.” Jesse interjected before Fareeha could speak. 

“Take a seat in here then, I’ll be right back.” He said before taking his leave from the conference room. 

It took Mr King a little longer than promised for him to return. They mostly waited in a comfortable silence. He came back through the doors with a small smile on his face. 

“I have an address for you. Jack Morrison and his men will meet you there and you’ll be able to conduct short interviews with them. I can’t promise you much more than that, they do have a mission to prepare for.” 

That was certainly better than nothing at all, Jesse thought as he took the piece of paper in Mr King’s outstretched hand. He mumbled a thank you to the man and made his way out of the conference room and back to the car. Jesse fumbled with the keys to his car for a moment before managing to unlock it. 

He waited impatiently for Fareeha to get into the passenger seat and close the door before pulling out of the parking space. She grumbled to him about how she hadn’t even put her seat belt on before he drove out of the parking lot. The address wasn’t too far from the Blackwater headquarters, only about ten minutes drive. 

When they arrived, it was to a facility that was largely in an open field with what looked to be an aircraft hanger in the middle. Jesse drove up to the front of it and parked right next to the front door. He made his way out of the car and banged his fist against the metal door to the hanger, demanding the attention of whoever was inside. 

After a few moments, Jack Morrison opened the door, a hard set frown on his face as he stepped out of the way and let them inside. He locked the door behind them once Jesse and Fareeha were inside. The hanger was poorly lit with too few hanging lights for such a large space. 

“You’ve got an hour,” Jack said, putting his hands on his hips, “An hour to ask anyone whatever you want and then you have to leave.” He watched the two of them for a moment before disappearing. 

Most of the short interviews they conducted were uninteresting. They all said the same thing when prompted, that Gerard and Jack had never been seen having a dispute of any kind and that they hadn’t seen anything that would suggest that Gerard was unhappy continuing with this line of work. Jesse almost felt defeated until they spoke to a more slender man, the unit medic, who looked as if he was trying to hide himself away in the corner. 

Jesse made his way over to him and cleared his throat, “What’s your name?” 

“Alan Turner.” He said, turning to face Jesse and Fareeha with reluctance. 

“We don’t have many questions, don’t worry. You’ll be on your way soon enough.” Jesse reassured him with a smile. 

Alan nodded, “What’ve you gotta ask?”

“Have you ever noticed any conflict between Gerard Lacroix and Jack Morrison? Particularly in the last few months?” Fareeha asked, holding up her notepad and pen. 

Alan paused, chewing his lower lip as he seemed to mull over his answer, “Yes,” He breathed, “They’d been fighting ever since we got back from our last mission as a unit three months ago.”

Fareeha’s face practically lit up at that, “Any idea what they had been fighting over?” 

“No idea, sorry,” Alan shook his head with a frown, “They were fine up until that mission, Jack had even been helping Gerard with dealing with his divorce, but after that they barely spoke and I heard Jack fight with him over the phone a few times. Couldn’t figure out what he was saying though.” 

“Did Gerard have any other conflict with anyone else in the unit?” Jesse asked, taking a step closer to Alan in his eagerness.

“He was a bit colder towards some of the other guys, even mentioned to me that he was considering leaving, but he never said why or if he actually was going to do it,” Alan let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, I hope you find out whoever did it.”

“No, that’s alright, Alan. That was more than enough.” Fareeha smiled warmly at him and placed her hand on his shoulder, comforting him. 

The two of them made their way out of the hanger, eagerly ushered out by Jack Morrison himself, as if they might find something if they hung around too long. The metal door shut firmly behind them with a hard  _ clank _ and Jesse smirked at Fareeha. He was feeling a lot more confident now. 

“You’re looking very pleased with yourself.” Fareeha said, smiling and rolling her eyes. 

“Yeah, well, we just caught the shitbag in his own damn lies.”


	12. Smoking Gun

After their talk with Alan Turner, Jesse and Fareeha slowly made their way back to the police station. They detoured on the way back for some actually decent coffee and some burgers from a drive-thru which gave Jesse plenty of time to think about what they’d just been told. He devoured his burger as he drove and tossed the wrapper into the back seat, an action that got a look and sound of disgust from Fareeha that he ignored, before heading straight to the station with his coffee in one hand and the steering wheel in the other. 

“Any ideas on what we should do next, Jesse?” Fareeha turned her head to look at him as they waited at a traffic light. 

“Was just thinkin’ ‘bout that myself. Might be worthwhile havin’ a look through Mr Lacroix’s belongings again, yeah?” He started, putting his coffee cup back in the cup holder, “Especially in that office of his, I’m sure if there’s something that might’ve made his friendship with Jack Morrison go sour, it’d be in there.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “What makes you so sure? Might be something personal and not business related, people don’t tend to write down that stuff except for maybe in diaries.” 

“Well it’s worth a try, ain’t it?” He asked with a shrug, “We don’t lose anythin’ by headin’ there and havin’ a look.” 

“That’s true.” 

Instead of taking a right at the next set of lights, Jesse drove on straight through and made his way to Gérard Lacroix’s home. Even if they didn’t find anything, it was better than sitting on their asses back at the station until some new evidence came forward. It only took them just under five minutes to arrive at the house due to light traffic and Jesse parked on the street outside. 

He climbed out of the car and this time patiently waited for Fareeha to get out as well and close her own door before locking it. They headed up the small path to the front door as Jesse swapped his car key for a pocket knife. The front door had been sealed with police tape and he needed to cut it open before they could unlock it. 

Once the tape was cut and the door opened, Jesse made his way to the room on the right in the entranceway. It was an office with a desk at the furthest end from the door with several file cabinets against the wall to the left. He raised an eyebrow at the idea that Gérard needed quite so many and wondered what he could possibly be storing. 

“How ‘bout you check his computer and I’ll check the cabinets, yeah?” Jesse asked, making his way to the cabinet closest to the door. 

Fareeha gave a non-committal hum as she made her way to the desk, pulling out the large, leather chair to sit on before switching on the computer. Jesse crouched down and pulled open the top draw of the cabinet and began flicking through the files. There wasn’t much of interest at first, most of it seemed to be personal papers such as his birth certificate, passport, copies of his driver’s licence, and other things like that or tax information. 

Jesse whistled a few nursery rhymes to himself as he slowly made his way through each draw until he found a file that made his heart skip a beat from excitement. A file labeled  _ Jack Morrison _ . 

Scarcely breathing, he pulled out the file and opened it, flicking through the papers and frowned when he found a few pages torn out. That certainly wasn’t a good sign for them. The pages that remained inside the file seemed to be financial checks that Gérard had done, including a copy of a balance statement of Jack Morrison’s accounts from only two months prior. 

The amounts of money that were sitting in his bank accounts made Jesse do a double take. He knew that mercenaries did earn a lot more than men in the army, he also knew that supervisors in those mercenary companies would earn even more, but the amounts in these accounts didn’t make sense, no matter how frugal Jack Morrison was. There were tens of millions of dollars going in and out of his accounts. 

Jesse put the file aside for now, searching through the rest of the draws to see if he could find anything more. It would be amazing if he could find the remaining pages from it. It took a few minutes but it then hit him. Gérard’s filing cabinets were setup to be in alphabetical order but half of his files had been put back wrong. They were all under the correct letter, but a good chunk of them were out of order under those letters. 

Jack Morrison had looked through the files. That was certain for Jesse now. There was no way that Gérard would set up a filing system and have so many cabinets for him to just jam them back half assed. His heart was practically racing now. 

“‘Reeha!” He called out, picking up the file once more as he stood up.

“No need to shout, I’m right here.” She said, sounding bored and disinterested. 

“I found a file in here on Jack Morrison with half the pages torn out. There are bank statements in here with millions of dollars goin’ in and out of his accounts. Gérard was keepin’ track of him and it looks like Jack got to them.” 

Fareeha forced herself out of the chair and made it to Jesse’s side in two paces, leaning over his shoulder to get a good look, “Fuck me.” 

“Not only that, half the files have been shoved back into the cabinets wrong. Looks like he might’ve killed Gérard, dug his way through the files and torn out some of the evidence…” Jesse paused, chewing on his lower lip as he thought that over, “Nah, that doesn’t quite make sense. If it were Jack that tore the pages out, he would have taken the entire thing, yeah?” 

“I suppose so,” Fareeha let out a slow breath, “What do you think happened to the pages then?” 

“Maybe Gérard tore it out.” He mused, giving Fareeha a quick side glance. 

“Why the hell would he do that?” She seemed to be getting frustrated with him now. 

Jesse gave a small shrug, “Maybe he knew that Jack Morrison was comin’ for him and decided to hide it.” 

Fareeha looked around the room before looking back to Jesse, clearly considering the idea, “Where do you think he would hide it?  _ If _ he did, that is.”

“I mean, if I were him, I’d hide it in a safe or somethin’. He seems to be a bit of an old fashioned guy, prefers papers over computers,” Jesse gestured to the cabinets they were standing in front of, “So I’m thinkin’ he’s got it hidden somewhere here, not on a hard drive or somethin’.” 

“Alright, hot shot. Where’s the safe?” 

“You’re suddenly real skeptical, ‘Reeha. You were puttin’ out lots of theories just yesterday,” He pursed his lips and handed Fareeha the file as he paced around the room, “I’m thinkin’ it’s gotta be in here.” 

It took Jesse pacing around the perimeter of the room for the oak bookcase on the opposite wall to click in his mind. He walked to one side of it and began to push, slowly revealing a small safe in the wall behind it. Jesse grinned triumphantly back at Fareeha once it was completely exposed for her to see. 

“How the hell did you know it was going to be there?” She asked, putting the file back on the top of one of the cabinets. 

“Lucky guess. He seems like he prefers old fashioned things, nothing more old fashioned than storing your shit in a wall safe behind some dusty bookcase,” He ran his fingers through his hair, “Besides, other than this bookcase, there ain’t a book in sight in this place. Don’t think he’s a readin’ kind of guy.”

“Fair enough,” She conceded, “You going to open the safe by reading his mind and knowing the code or will I need to call a locksmith?” 

Jesse couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the way Fareeha mocked him, “Call a locksmith.” 

The hard part wasn’t getting a locksmith to turn up on the scene, he turned up within thirty minutes of receiving the call. He was short man in a uniform of various types of blue with a ring of keys attached to his belt and he asked to be able to work in complete silence. No, the hard part was waiting for the guy to do his job. Jesse had no idea how long it  _ should _ take. He wondered whether three hours was unreasonable but before he could interrupt the guy and demand to know how long it was going to take, he came out and announced he’d unlocked the safe. 

Jesse sprung up from where he had been sitting on the front steps to the house and made his way inside without giving the guy so much as a thank you. Luckily for him, Fareeha took care of that for him and shook his hand before following in after Jesse. He made his way straight to the safe and grinned at what he found. 

Inside the safe was twenty thousand dollars in cash, a passport, two different handguns plus their ammunition, and a couple of torn papers stored underneath. Jesse barely remembered to put on latex gloves before shoving the items out of the way to get to the papers, pulling them out of the safe for him and Fareeha to get a good look at them. 

“God- _ fuckin’ _ -damn.” He mumbled to himself under his breath. 

“What?” Fareeha asked, getting on her tippy toes to try peer over the back of his shoulder, “Come on, let me see.” 

Jesse turned around to face her, holding the paper up in front of him so she could get a good look at the evidence, “Jack fuckin’ Morrison was traffickin’ drugs through his work at Blackwater. Gérard discovered what he was doin’ and was collectin’ evidence to turn over and get his ass arrested. If that’s not motive, then I don’t know what fuckin’ is.” 


	13. No Title, Because Why Not

It was late at night when Jesse and Fareeha made it back to the station with their new evidence against Jack Morrison. They had called in some techs to do another sweep of the house, just in case there was anything else they could have missed like the safe. Jesse had also put in a request for a copy of the blueprints for the house. 

When the excitement from finding the information about Morrison’s drug trafficking had worn off, Fareeha spent her time reminding Jesse that just because they had motive,  _ did not _ mean they had proof of anything else. On the one hand, it irked Jesse so much to be reminded that he wanted to punch his fist through a wall, on the other, it was a good thing to hear. There were a lot more steps between here and a murder conviction.

Jesse dropped into his chair at his desk and put his bag of takeaway by the keyboard. He could hear Genji’s voice in his mind telling him, ‘You’re going to get fat if you keep eating all that takeaway, let me make you food to take to work’. He always insisted that he did enough running around after perps that it wouldn’t matter, but this investigation was certainly not the case. Jesse grumbled as he tore open the bag and devoured the food inside. 

While Jesse was eating his incredibly late dinner, Fareeha was sat at the desk opposite him trying to make contact with some of the higher ups in Blackwater, anyone would could pull Jack Morrison from the mission to Syria for the investigation. After multiple calls, Jesse could tell she was still being stonewalled by assistants who were insisting that their bosses were still sleeping and that it was ‘ridiculous’ to expect a phone call to be answered at two in the morning, no matter how important. 

Jesse was given a surprise and nearly spilt his cup of soda on himself when Fareeha jumped out of her chair in excitement.

“Mr King!” She exclaimed, scrambling for the pen she had just sent flying across her desk, “I’m so glad to have caught you, I’m sorry for calling so late.” 

Jesse couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. He balled up his rubbish and tossed it into the trash can nearby.

“Yeah, I’m calling due to new evidence in the case and I’d like you to pull Jack Morrison from the line up for the Syria mission so we can have access to him for proper interviews.” Fareeha chewed her lip, pausing as she waited for Mr King to give an answer. 

“What do you mean he’s already left?” Her voice broke as she asked that and Jesse couldn’t help but cringe at it. 

Fareeha slowly sat back down in her chair as she pinched her nose in frustration, “He brought forward the flight time after we conducted our interviews and you didn’t see that as suspicious?”   

“Well, no-” She was cut off by Mr King and she ran her fingers through her hair nervously. 

Jesse watched her carefully as she murmured a goodbye and put the phone back, ending the call. Fareeha slumped back in her chair with a loud sigh. It was obviously far from good news, anyone could have picked that up from just that side of the phone call. He would wait for her to offer up the details first, though.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later that she finally spoke up as Jesse was scrolling through a news site to see what they were saying about the Lacroix case, if they were saying anything at all. She tapped the top of the desk with her pen and let out a slow breath before speaking. 

“So they let him bring forward the flight from later today to yesterday afternoon, right after we left the hanger. Mr King said it didn’t seem suspicious to him at all that Morrison would do that and refused to bring him back from Syria unless we got an arrest warrant,” She paused for a moment, chewing her lip, “He didn’t care what evidence we had about possible drug trafficking going through his company unless we planned to arrest Jack Morrison the moment he landed.” 

“Fuck me,” Jesse grumbled, “Nothin’ we can do ‘bout it?” 

“Not unless we verify whatever Gérard found first and bring him in on drug trafficking charges, but you know that Mr King,” Fareeha sighed, “Or whatever his name is, will pass on that information to Jack Morrison and he’ll be in the wind.” 

“You thinkin’ Mr King is in on it?” 

“Maybe, maybe not,” She shrugged, “Even if he isn’t, he’s known Jack Morrison for more than a decade. He’ll go to him and ask for an explanation and Jack will obviously lie before making a run for it.” 

Jesse was silent for a few moments, mulling things over, before he spoke up, “I’ve got an idea, but I don’t think you’re gunna like it very much.” 

Fareeha raised an eyebrow at him, “And what exactly is your idea?” 

“I’m thinkin’ we bring Amélie back in for another interview. This time to ask about Gérard and Jack’s friendship. She was married to him for years and would probably know more about it than anyone else we can ask right now.” 

“That’s… That’s actually a good idea.”

* * *

 

Jesse smiled as warmly as he could at Amélie Lacroix when he entered the interrogation room, she didn’t look particularly pleased to be called in here yet again but still didn’t bring a lawyer with her. He took a seat and crossed one leg over the other, trying to show her that he was relaxed and she should be too. 

“Mornin’ Mrs Lacroix, thanks for comin’ in so early.” He said as he opened up his notepad, clicking his chewed up pen.

Amélie returned the smile, somewhat, “Good morning.” 

“We have some questions for you, okay? Nothin’ too serious like the last couple times. We just wanna know more about Gérard’s friendship with Jack Morrison.” 

“Jack Morrison?” Amélie asked, eyebrows drawn together before she finally  _ did  _ relax in her chair, almost like she’d realised something, “I see. What kind of questions do you have?” 

“So they were close friends for the majority of your marriage?” Fareeha asked, jumping right to the chase. 

“Oui,” She cleared her throat, “I married Gérard shortly before he was hired at Blackwater which is where he met Jack Morrison. They have been friends ever since they met then.” 

“How close would you describe their friendship?” Jesse looked up when he was done scribbling out a line of notes for himself.

“Quite. Jack would come over for dinner once a fortnight, sometimes more often, whenever they weren’t away on missions. They would also go out every week to the bar a few streets over for a few drinks.” 

“Was there any fightin’ that you noticed? In the past few months?” 

Amélie’s eyes flicked between Fareeha and Jesse, “Oui. They began having arguments around the time I filed for divorce. He did not wish to talk about it when I asked but Jack suddenly was not allowed around for dinner and they would not go out to have drinks any more. There were a few heated conversations when Jack would come to our front door,” She sighed, “But then I moved out of the home for good when I had made my decision.” 

“So you don’t have any idea what the fights were about?” Fareeha asked. 

“I know it started when Gérard returned home from Libya a few months ago, but he refused to tell me what it was when I asked. He said it wouldn’t matter until he had more information but,” Amélie gave a small shrug, “That was all he said.” 

Jesse nodded and pursed his lips as he tried to come up with any more questions, “I think that’s all for now, thanks for comin’ in, Mrs Lacroix.” He could see the surprise on her face as he reached over the table to shake her hand, though, she did after a second. 

Fareeha didn’t speak until Amélie had left the interrogation room, having been allowed to leave after that, “Well, that didn’t give us much.” 

“She didn’t know much about it, but did you see the way she looked when we brought up Jack Morrison? She’s keepin’ somethin’ from us, though I don’t think it’s anythin’ bad.” 

“Well, you can… do  _ whatever _ with that idea, I’m going to see if I can verify the evidence from Gérard’s safe.” 


	14. The Truth Comes Out, for Sure.

After the interview with Amélie that Fareeha kept on insisting had been a dead end, Jesse was struck with the idea of making his way down to the the team of uniformed officers that had been tasked with collecting and sorting through the security footage from businesses surrounding Gérard Lacroix’s home. There was only one officer here, slumped down in his chair as he watched the footage in real time with one hand in a packet of potato chips. 

Jesse stared at him for a few moments before clearing his throat, “You find anythin’ in the footage yet?” 

The officer jumped in his seat, accidentally tossing the half eaten packet of chips onto the floor as he straightened up, “Oh! Yeah - Um, I’ve got something, I think.” 

“What is it?” Jesse tried to keep frustration out of his voice as he crossed his arms against his chest. 

“Well, I found video of the suspect…” He trailed off, flipping through messily scribbled notes on a pad of paper that had bits torn off, “Mrs Lacroix! Yeah, found footage of her getting off her bus a few blocks away from the victim’s home, but she arrived a bit later than she said in her interviews.” 

Jesse closed the distance between them now, looming over where the officer sat in his chair, “How much later?” 

“S-She said that she got there at like, ten at night, but she gets off the bus at like ten-thirty-seven instead.” The officer stammered out, sinking in his chair to get away from Jesse. 

“When did you find this out?” His voice was only just short of a shout now. 

“I dunno! Like, maybe a day ago?” 

“You’re fuckin’ lucky that I’d get fired for givin’ you a good smack,” Jesse huffed, taking a few steps back as he let out a few calming breaths, “Is there anythin’  _ else _ you need to tell me about? Speak now or I cut your balls off next time.” 

“I-Uh-I,” The officer fumbled, trying to flip through the rest of his poorly kept notes, “We- Uh- We found that Jack-something-guy’s car on the tapes too at nine-thirty.” 

Jesse snatched the pad of paper from the officer’s hands, making his way back up the stairs to the detective’s desks. He didn’t have time to deal with a human being made of pure incompetence. When he returned, he found Fareeha still sitting at her desk on the phone with probably yet another department. Jesse dropped the notepad down in front of her to get her attention, ignoring the way she raised her eyebrow at him. 

“What’s this?” She asked, flipping through the pages as she shifted the phone to rest between her head and her shoulder. 

“Some dipshit we put on lookin’ through the security tapes found out that Mrs Lacroix showed up forty minutes later than she told us and that Jack Morrison’s truck is seen drivin’ around the area at nine-thirty.” Jesse said, sitting down in his seat with a sigh. 

“Isn’t that a good thing? Why is he a dipshit?” 

“Because he found that shit out yesterday and didn’t tell anyone,” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “So what are you thinkin’, ‘Reeha?”

“Well, it seems like based on that Jack must’ve shown up and killed him then Amélie showed up later. I don’t think she showed up because she was an accomplice though…” Fareeha leaned back in her chair, “We know Gérard texted Amélie to ask her to come over, yeah? Do you know when that was sent?” 

Jesse searched through the piles of paper on his own desk and found his own notepad, flipping through the pages, “It was sent at nine-forty-five…  _ Shit. _ ”

“Jack sent the text message, not Gérard. It looks to me like he used his phone to text Amélie in order to make her look guilty by having her come over,” She pursed her lips as she paused, “Why would Amélie go through with lying though? If she’s innocent, why would she and both her girlfriends say they’re guilty?” 

“Well, that’s a real good question, ‘Reeha. How about we bring ‘em all back in and find out?”

* * *

 

Amélie settled in for the  _ second _ time that day in the first interrogation room. This room was starting to get far too familiar. She crossed one leg over the other and did her best to relax the tension in her shoulders and upper back. Hopefully the detectives would come in soon and she wouldn’t have to wait here forever to be asked even more questions. 

It took just over ten minutes before Detectives McCree and Amari made their way into the room, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table to Amélie. They both pulled out their notepads and pens while Detective McCree removed his ridiculous cowboy hat and Detective Amari hung her leather jacket over the back of her chair. The two of them were getting comfortable, that didn’t seem like a very good sign. 

“Sorry for keepin’ on draggin’ you in here, Mrs Lacroix, but this is pretty urgent.” Detective McCree started, coughing to clear his throat as he repeatedly clicked his disgusting chewed up pen. 

“I do not mind. Anything to help.” She murmured, combing her fingers through the ends of her own hair. 

“Right, well, I’ll cut right to the chase. You told us that you had got off the bus at roughly ten o’clock at night, however, we’ve found video footage of you arriving at ten-thirty-seven instead,” Detective Amari asked, sliding a picture across the table towards Amélie. It was her getting off the bus with a time stamp in the corner, “Do you have any idea why that is?”

“I…” Amélie trailed off, chewing her lower lip, “I do not know. I must have misremembered.” 

“Do you know when Gérard asked you to come to the house?” Detective Amari shuffled through some more of her papers. 

“Not long before ten, I believe,” Amélie’s eyes were still locked on the photograph in front of her, confused by what she was seeing, “I am not too sure.”  

“Any idea how he got in contact with ya?” Detective McCree asked, taking a piece of paper from Detective Amari’s hands. 

“I do not know. Phone call, maybe.” 

“He actually sent you a text at nine-forty-five. We think there might be someone else involved in this, you seem to be havin’ trouble rememberin’ a lot of this. Either you’re lyin’ a whole lot and you’re bad at it or you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Detective McCree stared right at her with intensity, “So, how ‘bout you start tellin’ us the truth? What happened that night?” 

Amélie took in a deep breath, her hands shaking in her lap now, “I do not remember. I remember having dinner with Lena and Emily at about seven-thirty and I remember us watching one of Lena’s car shows on TV. I remember leaving the apartment to see Gérard and taking the bus and then the next thing…” She trailed off, tears forming in the corners of her eyes as her breathing got ragged, “The next thing I remember is being on the floor of the living room with Gérard in front of me and kneeling in his blood. He was already dead, but he was still warm… I think I called Emily at some point and I remember her and Lena showing up to try and help.” 

“Is that the last thing you remember?” Detective Amari asked, looking up from the notes she had written on her pad of paper. 

“No, I remember Lena calling the police and us deciding to tell the detectives that we all did it,” Amélie uncrossed her legs and recrossed them, “She had said that they would not believe me if I told them that I could not remember anything from what happened, that I would be put in prison.”

Detective McCree pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at Amélie, “So you decided to lie instead?”

“Lena believed that I would have a better chance if you were confused than if I told you I could not remember. They decided to protect me.”

* * *

 

Emily stretched her arms above her head as she waited, starting to get impatient as one hour of waiting quickly became two. She wondered if this is when they were going to arrest them. Perhaps it was a final push to get them all to tell what they believed to be the truth. Her back was starting to get stiff with how long she’d been sitting in this cheap plastic chair. 

As time ticked on and it nearly became three hours, both Detectives McCree and Amari entered the interrogation room and took their seats. There was a brief mumble of apologies about how long it had taken for them to round up their last interrogation before the notepads were brought out followed by the two of them making themselves at home. 

She decided to keep her annoyance about the wait to herself, “How about we just get right to what you want to say to me?” 

“Right,” Detective McCree flicked his eyes over to Detective Amari, giving her a look, “Well, Amélie has already admitted to us that she doesn’t remember much of the night that Mr Lacroix was killed. She said she remembers leavin’ but not when she arrived at the home, she said that she then called you after she came to kneelin’ in his blood in the livin’ room,” He pushed a piece of paper across the desk for Emily to look at, “We found record of that call.” 

Emily eyed the paper carefully, “And what did she say that we talked about?” 

“She told you to come over which is where you and Lena Oxton found her with Gérard Lacroix’s body in the living room,” Detective Amari started, leaning forward to rest her forearms on the table, “According to her, you both attempted at first to help her clean up the mess which is how Lena’s shoes were covered in his blood and your hands got cut by the vase. She then said that Lena convinced the both of you that calling the police and deceiving us was a better idea than trying to hide his death,” She paused, staring at Emily, “Is that correct?” 

“Yes. That’s correct.” Emily said, sighing with relief as tension she hadn’t realised she’d been holding left the muscles in her back. She didn’t know what would come next, but she knew whether it meant prison or not, it was nice not to be lying any more. 

 


	15. The End

Jack was settled at his desk on base at Syria when Alexander King made a visit, knocking while he was entering the room. He stood up from his desk, spine ramrod straight as he watched his superior close the distance between them. It was clear by the hard set frown on his face that whatever he had visited for certainly wasn’t good. Alexander King  _ never _ left headquarters unless he felt like he absolutely had to.

“Sir?” Jack asked, clenching his clammy fists at his sides. 

“Those detectives got a fucking subpoena for your DNA,” Alexander started, gesturing for one of the men in Jack’s unit to come into the room, carrying a little kit in his hand. It was the little rat Alan Turner, “So we’re going to give it to them and I’m here to make sure you don’t fuck this up too. They say they have evidence of you running drug trafficking through these missions and they also think that you killed Gérard, any of that true?” 

“You know they’re full of shit, they’re sniffing around trying to find something.” Jack looked back between Alexander and Alan, putting his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, whatever, Jack,” He waved him off, heading back towards the door, “Just give the guy your arm and let him take your blood.”

Jack pursed his lips and stared at Alan once they were left alone in his office together. He avoided Jack’s gaze but also refused to leave, not backing down despite his almost palpable fear. With a sigh, he offered his arm to the man and let him take his blood.

* * *

 

After two hours of hiding in his room, contemplating what he would do now, Jack assembled his rifle from the case he stored under his bed. If he hung around here for much longer, it would only be a matter of time before Alexander would have him restrained and brought to a plane to be taken home. He packed a small side bag with a few clothes, some money, and a fake passport he had stored away before they left. 

Jack made his way out of his room and down the main hallway towards the front door. He had almost gotten to the front doors, just meters away, when Alan Turner showed up again. As he tried to open the door, Alan forced it closed again and did his best to seem more physically intimidating. Jack raised an eyebrow at him, trying to come off as calm and collected. 

“What do you want, Turner?” He grumbled, trying to open the door again.

Alan pushed it closed once more, “Just want to know where you’re going, sir.” 

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.” Jack let out a slow breath, trying to quell the anger bubbling up inside him before trying the door yet again. Alan Turner was never this forceful. 

“It looks to me like you’re trying to flee. They should be coming back with the results on the DNA test soon, said they had some skin under Gérard’s fingernails to compare it to. You’re running because it’s going to come back a ma-” 

Before Alan could finish speaking, Jack had removed the rifle from his shoulder and fired it at him. He didn’t look back to see whether he’d hit Alan or not, just taking the opportunity to make his way through the door and down the steps. Jack was running now. He hadn’t really thought much of this through, desperation and panic pumping through his veins. 

Jack had made it to a humvee parked by the front gates when a bullet pierced his shoulder. He slumped against the side of the vehicle and tried to paw for the handle even as he slid to his knees. Alan Turner stood over him with a pistol in one hand and handcuffs in the other as his face hit the ground.

* * *

 

Jesse and Fareeha made their way to the hospital an hour from the police station as soon as they received the call about Jack Morrison being in custody. It didn’t come as a surprise to Jesse at all when he’d been told that he’d tried to flee and fired on his own men in his attempt to escape prosecution. He’d known since the minute he’d met Jack that he was a shitbag. 

It was only twenty minutes into the trip that the lab called to let him know that the DNA test had come back as a match. They had enough to arrest and charge him for the murder of Gérard Lacroix on top of the evidence they had to prove his drug trafficking. He’d easily be spending the rest of his life in prison and Jesse couldn’t feel any more satisfied than this. 

They waited around for over four hours until Jack was wheeled in, escorted by multiple men from his unit with wrist of his uninjured arm handcuffed to the railing of the gurney. Jesse got out of his seat and stood in front of them to keep them from progressing into surgery. The wound wasn’t life threatening and he wanted his answers now. 

“Confess,” Jesse said, looming over Jack now, “Why’d you do it?” 

“You know why,” Jack grumbled, giving Jesse a look filled with exhaustion, “He met me that afternoon to tell me that he had the proof he needed to turn me in, told me that I had the rest of the week to turn myself in or he’d do it for me,” He gave a wheezy cough, “I went over to try convince him to change his mind. He wouldn’t. So I killed him with the vase.” 

Fareeha made her way to stand by the side of the bed, guiding one of the Blackwater mercenaries to get out of her way, “What else? There’s more. We know there’s more.” 

Jack looked between the two of them, looking almost disinterested in the proceedings now that he’d been caught, “He was on the floor, gurgling and making these weird noises but I left him. I searched through his filing cabinets and when I couldn’t find what he had on me, I sent a text to Amélie Lacroix using his phone.” 

“And you’ll sign a statement to that effect?” Jesse asked, looking over at Fareeha now with a smile playing on his lips. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get out of my fucking way, my shoulder hurts.”

* * *

 

Amélie couldn’t describe the relief she felt when she got the phone call from Detective McCree to let her know that she, Emily and Lena had all been cleared by the police. She had been at home waiting for the both of them to return from work and decided to set up for them to celebrate as soon as they were together again. 

She went out to the supermarket, collected the ingredients to make Lena’s favourite curry and picked up a bottle of Emily’s favourite wine. Amélie wanted to thank them for helping her, whether they believed she was guilty or not. She was going to make the evening special for the two of them. 

When she returned home, Amélie immediately got to work on the curry when she made it back to the apartment and set up the dining table with placemats, the nice dinner plate set, and candles while it simmered on the stove. She counted down the minutes to Emily and Lena’s return as she kept an eye on the dinner and did some cleaning around the apartment. 

Lena was the first to come home, eyes widening at the sight of the dinner table set up as if it were an anniversary before scrambling to see the calendar on the wall, “Fuck! Did I lose track of the days  _ again _ ?”

Amélie chuckled and reached out to Lena, pulling her in for a tight embrace, “No, chérie. We have been cleared of suspicion in Gérard’s murder. They have made an arrest.” 

“Really?” Lena asked, grinning as she shrugged her jacket off and tossed it to the ground, “Who did it?” 

“Jack Morrison. It seems he murdered Gérard because he was going to expose him for drug trafficking.” Amélie ran her fingers through Lena’s hair, curling them around her fingertips. 

Lena gave her a sad smile, “I’m sorry, love. Sounds like he was a good guy.” 

“He was,” She kissed the top of Lena’s head, “Sit down at the table, mon amour. Emily should be home soon, I have made curry.” 

Emily came home about twenty minutes after Lena, hanging her handbag and coat up on the hook by the door as she made her way inside. She sighed and rubbed at the back of her neck, obviously tense as she slipped her shoes off. When she saw the dining table set up with both Amélie and Lena sitting there waiting for her, Emily couldn’t help but smile. 

“We’ve been cleared, love!” Lena grinned widely at Emily, gesturing for her to join them at the table, “And Amélie’s made us dinner, she even got you that bottle of wine you love so much.” 

Emily settled in at the table as Amélie served them dinner, taking both of their hands and thanking them for their support. Amélie was just grateful to know that nothing would take her away from them now that things were rounded up. 

“So, how do you feel, pet?” Emily asked after taking a sip of her wine, clearing up the rest of the food on her plate. 

“I feel…” Amélie trailed off as she relaxed in her seat, “I feel like I am alive again.”

* * *

 

Jesse made his way through the door after four failed attempts to unlock the front door due to his own exhaustion. He dropped his keys on the table in the hallway, missing the bowl that was meant to collect them and tossing his hat aside. Genji was standing in their kitchen over the stove, cooking something that smelled really good but Jesse wasn’t too sure what it was. 

“How was your day, Jesse?” Genji said, smiling back at him as he made his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Genji’s waist. 

“Alright. Tirin’. Solved the case though.” 

“Oh? Was it the widow in the end? Tell me all about it, you know how much I love hearing about your murder cases.” He said with a grin, enjoying the kisses and tickling of Jesse’s beard against the back of his neck. 

Jesse told him all about it, every twist and turn of the case. 

"So even though they didn't know if she was guilty, they were willing to risk going to jail for her?" Genji asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Jesse had known he’d get a kick of out that.   
  
He grinned at him, kissing his cheek, "Love makes you do a lot of funny things, don't it?"   
  
"I guess that's why I made that ridiculous chicken fried steak you like so much." He mumbled, flipping one of the steaks with a spatula.    
  
"Aww, darlin', that's about the sweetest thing."

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to know more about me or see more of my work, follow me at: twoheartedalien2-0.tumblr.com :D


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